


From the Wings Comes a Lover

by alexygalaxy



Series: Principal Role [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, F/M, Slow Burn, ballet without plot, gratuitous descriptions of dance steps, like. really gratuitous, this is for me and the 6 other widojest shippers, we'll see if it ends up being slow burn but for now that's the plan, who have also taken 10 plus years of ballet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19734214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexygalaxy/pseuds/alexygalaxy
Summary: An injury has shaken up the Nicodranas City Ballet's production of Giselle, and some things go further than stage acting.





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my piece for Widojest Week Day One: Dancing!
> 
> Apologies for posting so late in the day, and also posting an incomplete work. My dumb ass decided to write day one last and time ended up getting away from me and the fic ended up a lot longer than I expected. Also, please note that while the dance major in me did jump out and fill this with a lot of ballet terminology, you don't need to know any of it to understand the plot, and I also have a glossary of dance terms in the end notes, in order of appearance, if you'd like to check that out. I'll also put links to videos of productions I referenced while writing so you can get a good visual. 
> 
> Also, this is by no means a stand alone fic!!! I've had this ballet au floating around in my brain space since march and I have 7 pages of headcanons for it, the week prompt just finally got me off my ass to write something. When the week is over I'll keep writing other stuff for this au, and you're always welcome to ask me about it at my tumblr (cadykeus-clay) too. Enjoy!!

Jester trudged into the studio, dragging her pointe shoes on the floor behind her as she groaned from the door to her usual spot at the barre and promptly collapsed, cheek pressing against the ground and hair falling into her face as her body gave into gravity.

“Mornin’, Jes.” Beau’s voice came from above and just across the barre from where Jester lay. Only her feet were visible from Jester’s perspective, pressing up and down as she rolled through slow relevés. As she balanced, one foot reached out to prod Jester’s shoulder. “You dead?”

“Yes,” she grumbled. “It’s  _ so early _ , Beau.”

“Jes, its 9:15. It’s not that bad.”

“It  _ is _ though.”

“Company warm up’s been at this time for the past five years.”

“And it’s terrible every single morning.” 

Jester tucked her arms underneath her and pushed her torso up with dramatic slowness. Shifting her weight into her hands, she pulled her legs underneath her to sit on her shins. Running her fingers a few times through her hair, she began to twist the locks upward, grabbing pins out of a small bag and jamming them into the hairdo. Within a couple minutes, Jester had a perfect French twist perched at the back of her head, just as she did every terrible, horrible, early morning. 

Swinging her legs around in front of her, Jester placed the bottoms of her feet together and let her knees fall to either side in a butterfly stretch. Pressing her elbows into her thighs for a little extra resistance, she rocked slightly side to side in an attempt to loosen up her hip joints. As she stretched, she heard the patter of feet approaching. She glanced up to see Nott, and smiled. 

Bracing herself on the barre, Nott squatted, grimacing as some muscle or joint defied that action. She all but fell to sitting, catching herself somewhat on her hands before laying fully down. 

“I do not have a back,” she said, practically begging her spine to relax. “Yussah took it away in rehearsal yesterday and replaced it with pain.”

“Good lord, what’d he do?” Beau asked, joining the other two women on the floor. She grabbed a small rubber ball and placed it in the inner divet of her ankle, guiding it up into her calf and back down as she rolled out some of the more stubborn tendons. 

“There’s this fuckin shoulder lift, right, where Molly’s gotta flip me so my hips are on his shoulder and I have to arch my back way up,” Nott began.

“Like you did in Bluebird?” Beau interjected.

“Yes,  _ exactly _ like I did in Bluebird! So Yussah knows I know how to do it, and yet we still spent fifteen minutes doing nothing but that lift over and over again. And now, I’m dead.” Nott explained.

“Oh god,” Jester whined, “I’ve got him for pas today. I can just  _ tell _ he’s going make it miserable.”

“Wait, you’ve still got pas today?” Nott lifted her head to stare at Jester inquisitively. “I thought Fjord broke his whole leg or something.”

“It was just a twisted ankle,” Jester said.

“He’s at P.T. right now getting it assessed,” Beau added. “He might be cleared to perform if he rests for, like, a week.”

“Plus if he isn’t, I’ve still got to have  _ someone _ to partner me. Even though I could technically do the whole thing as a solo, I don’t think The Director would let me.” Jester switched stretches as she talked, laying on her back and pulling first one knee, then the other, into her chest.

Nott shrugged. “I bet if your mom asked him, he’d let you.”

“No he  _ wouldn’t _ , Nott!”

Nott raised her eyebrows suggestively, and Jester scowled at her. Beau reached out a hand to steady Jester as she hissed, “You  _ know _ she doesn’t like those jokes.”

“Sorry,” Nott mumbled. 

Tension barely had time to fill the air around them before the door to the studio cracked open and every dancer was scrambling to their feet and giving a slight curtsy. Dairon had walked into the room, dressed in her usual blue jacket and matching pants. She set her bag against the wall, pulling out the small notebook in which she wrote her combinations. 

“Just a few minutes, dancers, then we’ll begin,” she said, eyes busy looking over the notes she had prepared for company warmup. 

Nott waved a quick goodbye to Jester and Beau before scuttling across the room to the wall where she typically stood. Caduceus soon filled her space, taking his place behind Jester and setting his giant thermos of tea on the floor at the foot of the barre. 

Fjord’s spot across from him, in front of Beau, was distractingly empty. Even as Dairon clapped her hands, signaling the start of class, Jester couldn’t keep herself from glancing at it. 

“We start facing the barre, first position with the feet. Take a forced arch on plié, and straight. To the left, and straight. Three flicks, switching feet, deep demi to tendu side. And close, and close, and close, and close …”

Dairon’s voice droned in the back of Jester’s mind as she gave the first combination, to which Jester mostly listened. Marking through with her hands, she thought about Fjord. He was just a floor down, in the PT studio, with his nasty swollen ankle that he had texted pictures of to Beau, who had then shown Jester over dinner in their shared apartment. 

He might be getting told that he’d be fine with ice and rest and he could get back to rehearsals next week and the show would go on as normal. Or he might be getting told that he needs 6 weeks of rest and that he was out of the show all together. Or, gods forbid, he might be getting told that he was going to be in rehab for a year and - 

“Chin up, Lavorre, stop staring at your feet.” Dairon’s voice cut through Jester’s thoughts as the teacher passed just behind her shoulder, startling her and throwing her off the beat of the music. “It would do you good to remember the combination as well.”

Jester nodded, lifting her gaze and watching the dancers on the far wall as she attempted to catch back up with the movement. The music faded out just as she did, everyone in the room holding themselves in dynamic stillness for just a moment longer. Dairon stepped towards a barre, the nearby dancers moving back to a respectful distance. 

“A slow three-four for pliés. Prepare the arms on seven, eight. Allongé as you take the demi and up, double demi and up,” she began, demonstrating small bends of the knee for her students to see. 

Jester tried her hardest to focus on remembering the steps. Having already been called out once for a shoddy memory, she was determined to be extra attentive for the rest of barre. No one wanted to be on Dairon’s bad side. 

Pliés bled into tendus, tendus to dégagés, dégagés to ronde jambes, and so forth until the music had faded from the left side of grand battements and Dairon gave the instruction to clear the barres for center. Beau and Caduceus each grabbed a side of the barre and lifted up, carrying it easily to the back of the room to set against the wall. Jester gathered her pointe shoes off the ground and headed to the side of the room to slip them on. 

She yanked her slippers off and dropped them beside her, pulling the feet of her tights up and around her ankles. She wound a strip of athletic tape around her big toes and slid her toe pads on before pulling her tights back down. She shoved her feet into the boxes of her shoes, wiggling them side to side to get them in just the right spot. She wound the ribbons about her ankles, tying them in a knot and tucking the ends with a swift precision that came only from years of daily practice. Just as she was standing up, shifting her weight between the balls of her feet to loosen up the shoes, someone called her name. 

“Lavorre.” 

The Director was standing in the door to the studio, motioning Jester over with a hand. She threw a look over her shoulder at Dairon, who returned a silent nod of permission, and then approached. 

He motioned for her to exit, and shut the door when the two of them had made it into the hall. He reached for the towel he always kept around his neck, using an end to dab at the sweat on his temples. His near-constant sweatiness was one of the reasons Jester was always just a bit weirded out by him. 

That, and the fact that she was unfortunately aware of his year-long fling with her own mother a while back, when the two of them were both dancers in the Nicodranas City Ballet. Marion had since retired, and he had moved on from performing to his role as NCB’s artistic director, but knowledge of their romantic involvement still lingered in the studio. Rumors (that were  _ wholly _ untrue) had also begun to fly that Jester’s promotion to principal had involved a … favor on Marion’s end, making Jester all the more paranoid every time she had a conversation with him that she would be accused of bribing her way through the company.

The Director cleared his throat before addressing her. “Jester, I’m sure you’re aware of Fjord’s unfortunate injury yesterday. I’ve just gotten the report from the on-site therapists. It’s not a terrible injury, but they say he should refrain from excessive jumping. And, as I’m sure you know, his role had quite a few of those.”

Jester nodded as he spoke, anxious with the direction the conversation was heading.

“Given that we’ve nearly a month until the show, we’ve opted for a bit of a recast so as not to utterly wear out our other Albrechts. Fjord will take the part of Hilarion, and swap his role out with Widogast. You’ll still be Giselle, so no changes there, but you’ll have to re-set the pas. Yussah’s already been informed about this change for your rehearsal today.”

“Understood!” Jester said, hiding the disappointment in her voice. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, but -”

“Injuries happen,” Jester butted in, eager to get back to class. She could hear the music beginning to play for the first combination and even though she had a perfectly good reason to leave, she still felt like she’d been gone for too long. 

“Exactly. Hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience.” The Director flashed Jester a smile, wide and gleaming, but not reaching his eyes. “That’s all, Jester. Enjoy the rest of your day.” 

He gave her a slight nod before heading back down the hallway. Jester waited until the piano faded before cracking the door open and sneaking back into the studio.

Beau caught her eye across the room, shooting Jester a quizzical glance as Dairon began giving the adagio. Jester mouthed ‘Fjord’ as she marked through the combination. As the dancers split into two groups, both Jester and Beau made their way towards the back of the room. The piano picked up as they huddled together in the corner, hoping to keep their conversation away from Dairon’s eyes or ears.

“You heard about Fjord, is he ok?” Beau asked.

“Yeah, it’s not as bad as it could’ve been. He can dance, but they un-cast him as Albrecht.”

“What?”

“Too many jumps or something, I don’t know. But Fjord’s getting a smaller part and you’re not going to believe who’s taking over the pas with me.”

“Who?”

“Caleb.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way, The Director just told me.”

“That’s so funny, holy  _ shit _ , Jes.”

“It’s weird, Beau.”

“Nah, it’s hilarious. They always stick us together and we both hate it. I cannot  _ wait _ to hear how it goes with you two.”

“I’ve got rehearsal right after class, so I’ll find out soon enough.”

The pianist ended his phrase then, the first group of dancers splitting center and scattering sideways. The second group ran forwards, Jester and Beau filtering into the back. They squeezed their legs together, standing heel to toe in a fifth position preparation. As the first notes filled the air, all thoughts fell from their mind, except awareness of their movements and the memory of which step came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Releve: a balance on the toes (either on the balls of the feet in soft shoes, or all the way up on the tips of the toes in pointe shoes). It can be done on one or two legs, and in a variety of positions.
> 
> Bluebird: Means the Bluebird pas de deux from Sleeping Beauty. 
> 
> Pas: shortening of pas de deux. Meaning step of two, this is a duet between a man and a woman, usually consisting of many lifts and assisted balances or turns. Almost always used to signify romance in classical ballet. 
> 
> First position: One of 5 classical positions. With regards to feet, it means the heels are touching and the leg turned out so the toes point as far away from each other as possible. The goal is to get a 180 degree flat line from the left toes to the right toes. 
> 
> Plie: A bend of the knees. Can be demi (small bend, heels remain on the ground) or grand (large bend, heels come off the ground and the dancer goes low enough to almost sit on their heels)
> 
> Forced Arch: Pressing into the ball of the foot while the knee is bent to stretch the arch of the foot.
> 
> Tendu: Extension of the leg (to the front, side, or back) with the toe pointed but remaining on the ground.
> 
> Mark/marking: Colloquial term used to refer to doing the movement but at very low energy, or sometimes with your hands in the pattern of the feet so as not to waste energy while learning.
> 
> Allonge: Extension of the arms to a long, straight, and lifted position.
> 
> Degage: Extension of the leg (to the front, side, or back) with the toe pointed and slightly off the ground.
> 
> Rond de jambs: Circling the leg in a tendu position from front to back or back to front.
> 
> Grand battement: A high kick.
> 
> Adagio: A type of combination involving very slow and musical movement. Often contains high leg extensions and very slow balances or turns. Is the bane of most dancers’ existences.
> 
> Referenced videos:  
> Full length productions:  
> [Royal Danish Ballet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSx_kqe6ox0), i like this one for the tender stage acting, this is the production that got me feral for this au 
> 
> Again, apologies for not publishing a full fic this week. i promise the rest of the days are already written in full! i'll try to put out some more chapters as the week goes on, and i'll keep adding to this even once it's over because god DAMN it i am horny for some tender stage romance turned tenderer real romance!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jester's first rehearsal with caleb as her new albrecht, and its totally all professional

Caleb was already in the studio when Jester arrived, still breathing heavy from class, pointe shoes clacking on the tile of the hallway. She stepped through the door, shooting him a quick smile before placing her bag at the side of the room and throwing a shirt back on over her leotard. She shook her feet and leaned forward to try and pop her hips, twisted her torso about, swung her arms in a few wide circles, rolled her head back and forth, and pretty much anything else she could think of that would pass her nervous energy off as warming up.

She wasn’t weirded out by him or anything. Caleb was a perfectly nice guy, if a bit gruff. He had a nice accent, too. He’d been in the company with her the whole five years since she graduated from the feeder school, and they’d been on stage together in nearly every show. He had been getting quite a few roles with Beau lately, and even though Beau hated having to act all romantic with him whenever they had a pas, Beau liked him as a person. As did Jester, though she didn’t know him quite as well. So she had no real reason to be so anxious about this rehearsal.

“You’re stuck with me instead of Fjord, ja?” Caleb said from the floor, where he was sliding the warmup boots off his feet. “I’ll try not to be too much of an inconvenience.”

“Oh stop, it’ll be _fine_ ,” Jester answered, hoping her voice stayed steady. 

She moved out into the center of the room and began to mark through the pas. Caleb’s words echoed in her mind. That was what she was so freaked about, she realized. It wasn’t being _with_ Caleb, it was being _without_ Fjord. Every pas she had done, even before joining the company, had been with him. They were always a pair, from the first press lift she had ever done to absolutely killing as Sugar Plum and the Cavalier in last year’s Nutcracker. 

She felt safe when she was dancing with him; she always knew what to expect, where his hands would be, and just how much weight she could give him without falling off her leg. He knew when to grab her waist during turns so that she could eke out a quadruple instead of a triple. He had a smile that matched hers perfectly, and every time they flashed each other grins on stage, she was able to fight off the burning in her lungs and scrounge up the last bits of energy she needed to finish the piece.

But like, she was sure she’d be fine with Caleb. He just wouldn’t be Fjord. 

As her mind wandered and her feet muddled through familiar steps, Yussah came into the studio. Jester stopped to greet him, as did Caleb. 

“You’re both warm, I presume? Good,” he said, in response to their nods. “Let’s get started. We’ve got a lot to do with this recast, especially you Widogast, though you got the role in part because I know you pick things up quick. We’ll begin with the first pas in Act Two. Lavorre, to your entrance please.”

Jester hustled to the right side of the studio, pulling the loose shirt off, standing near the wall and waiting for another cue from Yussah. She watched as he grabbed Caleb’s shoulder, guiding him to a spot at about quarter stage, and instructed him to kneel. 

“We know the story of Giselle, yes? Your lovely girlfriend here,” he gestured to Jester as he spoke, “danced herself to death to impress you, and now you’re leaving flowers at her grave. This is a very sad and tender moment. When her ghost first appears, you can barely believe it.”

Caleb nodded as Yussah spoke, taking his instruction to mind. Yussah kneeled next to Caleb then, drawing his hand across his face to hide it. 

“Like this,” he explained. “She’s going to sneak up on you.”

Caleb mimicked the position, earning him a grunt of approval from Yussah.

“Show me your first phrase, Lavorre. Ba dah dah dah, Ba dah dah dah, yes this is your entrance, good, good, dah dah,” he began, singing the score as he watched Jester step in from the side. 

She walked on the balls of her feet, light as a wisp, with her hands crossed at the wrists and turned up, just in front of her sternum. She kept her gaze down, trying to look as though she didn’t quite belong to this plane. 

“Aaaaaaaaarabesque, slow, slow,” Yussah continued, as Jester’s leg began to rise behind her. “Run, run, run, stop, turn to him,” he lilted, fitting the words to the melody of the music. “Daaaah, good balance hold it, don’t be laaaaaaaaate, run, ba dum, you’re in, fifth now.”

Jester marked through the rest of her opening solo, moving about Caleb in a circle with a repetitive phrase of développé écarté, step, fouetté to arabesque. As she made her way back around him and took her final steps away, Yussah clapped. 

“That whole bit, Widogast, you sit there and don’t move.”

“Got it,” Caleb said. 

“Good. At this next phrase, right on the downbeat, you lift your head up from your hand, very slow, and turn to look at her. Rise to b plus, wait a minute, and run.” 

The rehearsal continued like this, Yussah singing as Jester marked through the parts she had already learned, Caleb catching up. The first two minutes of the pas had no actual partner work, it was all Albrecht running after Giselle’s ghost. When they had set that much, Yussah walked to the corner of the room where the audio system lay. Flipping through tracks, he reached the correct number and hit play.

“Places please, top of the pas. Lavorre you can mark but I want Widogast full out.”

Jester rushed back to stage right just in time to walk on, and Caleb dropped back down to the knee. They went through their parts, Giselle moving through air, like air, and Albrecht chasing after her, always a moment too late. Yussah watched in silence, nodding approvingly. To Jester’s surprise, he did not call for them to stop because Caleb apparently made no mistakes. 

“Good, wonderful, both of you. Let’s go on shall we?” Yussah moved towards Caleb, ushering him out of the way as he took the younger dancer’s spot. “Take your piqué, Lavorre, and step step to me, very good, now hold.”

Jester was but inches from Yussah, one leg out in tendu in preparation for the next step. Her body was frozen as Yussah turned to Caleb and began explaining.

“We go into a press lift now, very straightforward. She’s pretty much horizontal above you. Get this hip first,” he said, placing a hand on Jester to demonstrate the correct position, “then this one as she begins to rise. Show me.”

Yussah stepped away then, Caleb filling his spot. He planted his hands on Jester’s hips in the same spots. His grip was firm, but not harsh. Given his typically dour demeanor, Jester would’ve expected it to be a lot harder than it was. 

“Good, good. Do the full lift now. Take the preparation again,” Yussah said, and Caleb dropped his hands to allow Jester to step back. 

She took her balance, falling backwards and stepping into Caleb as his hands found her hips yet again. She pushed off the floor as he pressed her upwards, extending his arms until she was well above his head. With her legs in a slight coupé and her arms extended daintily en haut, Jester held her body taut. She looked down over Caleb’s back as he held her aloft. She hated lifts where she faced the ground, like this one. 

“Good, bring her down,” Yussah called, to Jester’s relief. 

Caleb began to lower her, and Jester brought one of her legs down to help guide the landing. 

“We go on,” Yussah said, stepping back into Caleb’s position. “Take a bow, let her go, do it again.” He demonstrated the movement to Caleb, marking through the lift with Jester. “We split center, you pull over here, prepare in fifth. Pull sus-sous, then tombé, pas de bourrée, cut assemblé.” Jester did the step, travelling across the floor for Caleb to see as Yussah spoke. “Three times, switching side, the lady always in front.”

“Ja, okay,” Caleb said, marking through the steps himself for memory. 

“The fourth one is different, so let’s stop there. Any questions? No? Good, take the whole thing from Giselle’s entrance.”

Both dancers nodded curtly, returning again to their opening positions as the music began to play. The familiar violins strained and Jester let herself get lost in the movement, transforming into the lost soul of a broken-hearted woman. That was not Caleb kneeling on the ground, but her true love, and she desired nothing more than to be reunited with him. 

As she danced, she let her arms pull just a little bit further towards him, her gaze linger on him just a fraction of a second longer as she ran past. She let her brow furrow in sadness as she moved around him, convinced that he was unable to see her ghostly form. 

When Caleb got up from kneeling, his dynamic fit into Jester’s perfectly. He moved slowly and warily, reaching out for her form even after she had left the space. His typically somber face grew darker and more troubled as he searched for the ghost of a love he could not find. 

They finally touched in the press lift, Jester sailing high above Caleb’s head. He carried her so gently that she barely noticed she was moving. Fjord would have thrust her up, leaving her high in the air for show. She would have trusted him not to drop her of course, but it would have been sharper. When Caleb lifted her, it was like a single breath, soft and graceful. He was bringing her down as soon as she was up, because Albrecht couldn’t stand having Giselle so far from him. Landing a little early, they fudged the counts and Jester sunk deeper into the bow, her arms trailing lovingly around Caleb’s neck until the phrase was finished. 

She circled back around and he lifted her again, just as gentle, but waiting a bit longer at the peak so as to stay on the count. They split, darting to opposite sides of the stage to begin their travelling jumps. 

“Look at each other, you’re supposed to be in love,” Yussah called as they turned towards each other and moved to cross each other. 

On the next pass, they caught each other’s eyes. A small, sad smile pulled at Caleb’s lips, and Jester couldn’t help but smile too. It wasn’t like Fjord’s smiles, it didn’t push her on towards the end of the piece. But it did tug at something in her heart - or rather Giselle’s heart, since that’s who Jester was right now - and it made the way she pulled across the stage for Albrecht feel a bit more sincere. 

They finished the third pass of jumps, and Yussah clapped his hands again, signaling for them to stop. Jester’s movement faded into minimal mark as she waited for the music to cut out, while Caleb simply relaxed, not knowing what came next. 

“Good, very good,” he said, “wonderful dynamic here. You’re very good at looking tortured, Widogast.” 

“Danke.”

If it was a joke, Caleb didn’t laugh. Jester did though, hiding a small giggle behind her hand. 

“Going on,” Yussah said, and stood in front of Caleb once again, leading him through the next few counts of eight, then calling Jester back to add her part on top.

And so the rest of the rehearsal went, Caleb picking up the movement quickly and Jester layering what she had already learned with it. There were no more lifts for the rest of the piece, it was more chasing and Jester throwing flowers for him to pick up (though they didn’t have the props with them at that exact moment). Soon, their time was up. 

“That’s all for today, thank you dancers, keep that in your head for tomorrow. Take five, Lavorre, then meet me back in here for your variation.”

“Yes Yussah, thank you,” Jester said, curtsying to him as he left the room for water. She turned to Caleb, walking backwards towards her bag to grab a sip of water. “That wasn’t too bad, don’t you think?”

“Ja, I think it went well. How’d my partnering hold up?”

Jester rolled her eyes. “Don’t compare yourself to Fjord, Caleb. Just because the two of us are the power couple of the company doesn’t mean you’re not good too.”

Caleb laughed at that, a short huff, and got close to a smile.

“Besides,” Jester continued, “your style actually worked really well for the scene.”

“Ah, thank you,” he said. He moved towards his things, gathering them in his arms and heading for the door. “See you tomorrow, then. 9:30 class, ja?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jester moaned, slumping dramatically, earning another laugh out of Caleb as he reached the door. Jester wiggled her fingers in his direction as she sang, “Byeeeee, Caleb!”

“Goodbye, Jester,” he said with a slight nod, and slipped out into the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FIC ISN'T ABANDONED I JUST HAVE 2 MAJORS AND IM TAKING 19 CREDITS THIS SEMESTER ITS GONNA TAKE ME A WHILE TO PUBLISH
> 
> Glossary:  
> Sugar Plum & cavalier: the leading couple in the ballet The Nutcracker
> 
> Nutcracker: one of the more famous ballets, set at Christmastime when a girl's nutcracker turns into a prince who takes her to Ye Olde Candy Land.
> 
> arabesque: a position in which the leg goes as high as possible behind the dancer while she keeps her torso upright
> 
> developpe: bringing one foot up the leg and then extending outwards
> 
> ecarte: leg extended to the side with one arm above the head.
> 
> fouette: fouette means two things, either a turn in which the leg whips in and out (the really famous ones from Swan Lake) or, in this instance, a step in which one leg is extended and remains stationary in the air while the dancer moves her hips and torso so the leg goes from being in front of her to behind her (or vice versa).
> 
> b plus: a standing position in which one leg is bent and crossed slightly behind the other
> 
> pique: stepping onto a one legged balance with the bottom leg already straight (as opposed to bending the leg underneath you and popping up)
> 
> coupe: one leg is straight and the other is slightly bent so that the foot can wrap around the standing ankle.
> 
> en haut: position of the arms where they are both held up above the head and slightly curve in towards each other
> 
> sus-sous: A balance on the tips of the toes, in fifth position (meaning one leg is crossed over the other so that the ankles are in the same line)
> 
> pas de bourre: a transitional step, where you cross one foot behind the other, put your weight on that one and move the other out sideways, then shift your weight again and bring the first foot across in front.
> 
> assemble: a jump where the legs squeeze together in the air 
> 
> variation: a short solo, only for the most advanced dancers of the company
> 
> Referenced videos:  
> [Royal Danish Ballet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSx_kqe6ox0), full production  
> the pas I'm talking about starts at about 1:24:00  
> [here's another clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xjuwzb7Olg) of just that pas that i like 
> 
> again sorry this is all i've got right now, but i'll be keeping up with this fic and if i don't feel free to come yell at me! or if you're also into this ballet au ask for some of my headcanons i will GLADLY share! my tumblr's cadykeus-clay :^)


	3. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another day, another class, another rehearsal; jester and caleb are slowly getting used to this new routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ITS BEEN A BIT HUH SORRY BOUT THAT
> 
> i've been busy and distracted and also working on several other projects and this fell to the wayside a little bit but don't worry, I will keep updating until it's done so help me god, we just might go months between chapters sometimes and thats how its gonna be
> 
> anyways, here's some more dance indulgence, hope yall enjoy

Beau and Jester sat on the floor of the studio, legs splayed out to the side in a casual second position stretch. Their elbows were on the floor, chins propped on their hands as they chatted in the soft din of the minutes before class. 

  
  
“Oh, and you totally forgot to tell me about your rehearsal with Yasha yesterday, so you like,  _ have _ to do that now, Beau,” Jester said, voice hushed and eyes occasionally darting over to the tall, built dancer stretching across the room. 

“Shhhhhhhhh,” Beau shushed, before continuing at the same volume as Jester. “It was fine, or whatever, nothing really happened. We’re just sharing a part, it’s not like we really do all that much together. But she was wearing that low back leotard which I think is new, so like. That was nice.”

“OooOOOooOO!” Jester snaked her head side to side like a middle schooler. “You notice all her new outfits, huh, Beau?”

  
  
“She just usually wears really plain ones, so it’s noticeable when she has a fancy cut!” Beau whined defensively.

  
  
“And you like staring at her back muscles.”

  
  
“Well, maybe I do, but that’s not pertinent to this situation.” Beau actively avoided Jester’s eyes.

  
  
“It’s pertinent to the fact that you’re  _ totally in love with her _ ,” Jester teased, leaning sideways and resting her head awkwardly on the floor to catch Beau’s gaze again. 

  
  
Beau simply rolled her eyes, while Jester made kissy faces. 

  
  
“Speaking of which, how was your rehearsal with Caleb?”

  
Jester stopped making kissy faces. “Eh. Fine. He’s not Fjord or anything but he’s a good partner. I think we work pretty well together. ”

“You’re not  _ totally in loooove with him _ ?” 

  
  
Jester’s answer came in the form of an annoyed monotone, complete with scowl and crossed arms. “No.”

“But you had a rehearsal together! You must be soulmates!”

  
“Ugh, fine, Beau, I get it. You know I was just teasing about Yasha, though, right?”

  
  
“Of course, Jes. I’m also fucking with you.”

  
  
“Yeah, I know.”

Jester straightened herself back up, switching so she had one leg extended behind and the other folded in front of her, as a modified lunge stretch. A silence fell between herself and Beau. 

Beau broke the silence almost immediately. “For real, though, how was it? I’m actually really curious. I’ve been stuck with him since we were both fifteen in that tiny ass studio, it’s a little weird to see someone else with him, you know?”

  
  
Jester just shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t think it’s all that weird. I mean, we both kind of had usual partners, but, you know. We’re a big company. Casting gets switched sometimes. It’s just like that.”

Beau gave a noncommittal hum. She had hoped to do a little more gossiping about her old classmate, but Jester clearly wasn’t into the conversation, so she let it fall once again. Jester switched her lunge to the other leg. Silence once again filled the space, followed quickly by the low sounds of other conversations.

“JESSIE!” Nott’s voice shot across the room, followed shortly by her body as she scrabbled, half-standing, towards where Jester and Beau were sitting. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE PARTNERED WITH CALEB?”

Jester immediately groaned and slumped sideways onto the floor, crumpling onto one hip and mashing her hands over her face. 

“Because I didn’t think it was  _ worth _ making a big  _ deal _ out of, Nott!” she mumbled into the floor. “I don’t know why everyone wants to talk about me doing this pas with Caleb.”

Nott pressed her lips together, having clearly pressed on a sore spot she wasn’t aware existed.

“Wait a minute, Jester, you’re doing this pas with Caleb?” Caduceus hummed, having apparently moved up to the barre while Jester was busy hiding in her hands from Nott.

She lurched off the ground to a sitting position as she yelled, “Yes! God! I’m doing a pas with Caleb, and you know what! I don’t care! I don’t care about Caleb!”

She huffed loudly, smacking her hands against the marley floor to accentuate her statement. The sound caused a small gasp to emit from a startled Caleb who, Jester noticed, had very much heard what she had yelled and was staring at her from where he sat, shoe halfway on, beneath the side barre. 

“God, sorry, I didn’t mean it,” Jester rushed, hands waving frantically in Caleb’s direction to signal a retraction of her words. “It’s just - It’s early, I’m tired - You’re fine - I like you - God, that’s so bad - Just - Shit - Sorry, Caleb.”

“It’s okay,” was his only reply. He turned his head, brow furrowed, slowly away from Jester’s gaze and back to the ballet slipper he was pulling on. 

Jester buried her face in her hands, again, pulling slowly down over her cheeks as she groaned at the three dancers crowded around her with pure, unadulterated, regret. 

“Smooth,” Beau noted, with little tact.

“That escalated rather quickly, and I apologize for my part in it,” Caduceus added, with significantly more tact.

Jester laughed. “No, Caddy, you’re fine, really.” She sighed again. “Sorry, I’m … frazzled. I don’t know why. But like. It’s just casting. It’s parts. In a show. That’s it! That’s all it is! Stop making it a big deal!”

Beau and Nott shared a harried glance, as Caduceus squatted down in front of Jester and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

  
  
“Are you worried that if people make this into a big deal, it’ll become a new standard and you won’t get to dance with Fjord anymore?” he murmured. 

Jester looked up at him, face still red and eyes now barely beginning to water. She nodded limply, fearing another outburst if she tried to respond verbally. 

“Now, now,” Caduceus said, rubbing small, rhythmic circles into her skin as Jester’s breathing slowed and her face un-reddened, “there’s no need for worry. You and Fjord work very well together, the company knows that, and once he’s back to full health you’ll be able to work with him again, I assure you.”

“Thanks Caduceus,” Jester muttered, and took a final deep breath before standing up to stretch her hips on the barre. Caduceus gave her a reassuring smile before moving back into his own place behind her. 

Just as Nott and Beau had whispered their own apologies, the door to the room cracked open and Yussah stepped in, clapping his hands one loud time to catch everyone’s attention for the start of class. 

* * *

  
  
  


Caleb gave a slight parting nod to Nott, who had been wrapped up in some excited and giggly conversation with Jester ever since they split into groups for center, and made his way towards the studio door, slipping between dancers littering the floor. A few feet shy of the door, he heard the patter of feet quickly followed by a small tug at the back of his shirt. He turned around, expecting Nott, but was instead met by the still-flushed, oddly concerned face of Jester. 

  
  
“You’re really sweaty,” she said, wiping the hand that had pulled at his shirt on her tights.

“Ja, you know, that does happen to me a lot in ballet class.” 

  
  
Jester stared at him for a few seconds, unable to tell from his monotone voice and unchanged expression whether or not that was a joke she was supposed to have laughed at. 

“Uh, anyways,” she started, “I just wanted to apologize again for this morning, I -”

  
  
“Oh, no. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Caleb turned away from Jester and began picking his way around groups of dancers and towards the hall once again.

Her voice piped up from behind him. “No, but like really, Caleb, what I said was mean and I feel really totally bad about it and also we’re going to the same rehearsal so I’m just gonna walk with you okay?”

Caleb said nothing, but waited outside the door for her to catch up with him. As soon as she neared his side, he began to pull down the hallway, letting her trail beside him, pointe shoes clacking slightly on the tile and voice chattering just above his shoulder.

“For real though, I shouldn’t have been as rude as I was, I think you’re a really good dancer and a good partner, at least from what I’ve experienced so far, and I shouldn’t have said that I didn’t care about you because I  _ do _ care about you, and I’m really sorry for being testy, it was just early and I think the whole company knows how much I hate mornings, and then also I was actually upset about something else which Caduceus helped me figure out -”

“Ah, yes, he is quite good at that sort of thing,” Caleb said, cutting off the single sentence which had followed him all the way to the far water fountain. 

“Yeah he IS Caleb! Like this morning, he just took one look at me, and he totally knew that I was actually worried about never getting to dance with Fjord again - not that I don’t want to dance with you, but I’ve been with him for like ten years now, and that’s kind of a really hard bond to break, you know?”

  
  
“Mmm.” He waited for a second, and when Jester did not pick up again, he continued. “I do know. I’ve been dancing with Beauregard for just about as long as you have been with Fjord. Although, I must say, I think the two of us dislike the romantic parts significantly more than the two of you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jester’s voice grew significantly quieter as she considered the fact that Caleb was as much out of his routine as she was. “But also, just saying, even though Fjord and I have made out like one or maybe six times while we were drunk, we’re really  _ just friends _ , neither of us get into the lovey dovey pas stuff all that much either.”

Caleb’s eyes widened, despite his best efforts, as Jester burst back into her usual speedy conversation. “I was mostly referring to the fact that Beau is not attracted to men.”

“Oh, yeah, well,” Jester spluttered, realizing she had just seriously over-shared, “I guess that’s also kind of a roadblock, isn’t it.”

“Ja.”

Caleb stepped back from the fountain, water bottle filled, and Jester made no move for it so he motioned silently for the two of them to head back down the hall to their next rehearsal. Jester obliged, taking the first few steps backwards to make sure Caleb was keeping up. Her shoes still clacked on the tile.

As they neared the door, the clacking stopped, and a hand tugged at Caleb’s shirt again.

“Sorry you’re missing Beau,” Jester said, a sad half-grin pulling at her mouth.

“I didn’t say I was missing her.”

“Yeah, but I know you are.”

Caleb laughed, a matching half-grin now crossing his face.

“She’s like a sister, Caleb, I get it. You don’t spend every day for ten years busting your ass to exhaustion with someone and not get close with them. Plus I know how exact you like being and I’m sure having to partner me when you’re used to Beau isn’t making that easy. I know I’m kind of a weird dancer to figure out. But you know, like Caduceus told me, everything is definitely going back to normal after this season is over.”

“I appreciate the concern, Jester. And yes, I do miss dancing with Beau, but it’s not like she’s left the company. I still see her every morning, because  _ she _ actually gets here on time.” Jester stuck her tongue out at that. “And you are also very nice to work with. I think we’ll manage for this show. That is, as long as we get inside that studio before the rehearsal starts.”

Jester jumped slightly, panic spreading over her face as she span and skittered towards the door. She turned the handle and yanked at it, but stopped it just open enough to peer inside and make sure Yussah was not waiting for them. He wasn’t, so she quickly shifted to check the clock. There were a good fifteen minutes left before the rehearsal was set to start.

“Don’t SCARE me like that Caleb, God!” Jester cried, swinging the door fully open and stepping inside. 

“I thought it’d be funny,” he said, chuckling a little as he followed her in.

“It was,” she admitted, defeat apparent in the giggles she was trying to hide. 

Tossing her things lazily along the side wall, Jester began to bounce on her toes, making sure her feet and shoes were still warm. She would’ve waited until maybe five minutes before rehearsal, but she was pretty sure that Caleb was the kind of guy to want to walk through things full out before they started. And if he asked, she wanted to be ready. 

It was really the least she could do for Caleb, to try and maintain that semblance of routine for him. Plus, it would also be good for her own memory - there were enough subtle time and spacing shifts between Fjord’s version of the pas and Caleb’s that she couldn’t just go on muscle memory anymore. Jester’s attention slowly turned back to the room from her own thoughts, and she realized that Caleb was already in the center of the room, kneeling in his starting position and staring at the floor as he counted to himself.

“Wait, wait, I’m going with you,” Jester called, already half-shuffling on the balls of her feet to take her space in the studio.

“Hm? Oh, I didn’t think you’d want to.”

Jester waved a hand dismissively. “It’ll be good for me.”

“From the top, then?” Caleb asked, already moving to hide his face in imaginary mourning. 

“Mhm!” 

Jester nodded and smiled brightly, letting herself settle for a moment in preparation before she began to step out into the room, slow, deliberate, and ghostly. She stopped a few feet short of the figure, kneeling at her grave, and let out a shallow breath before beginning to raise her leg to arabesque. He did not look up at her, and he had no reason to. She was supposed to be dead. The only acknowledgement that she was there at all were the muttered counts Caleb was giving her.

She dropped her leg, placing her hands on her hips and turning back into Jester with a huff. 

“You have to sing it, Caleb.”

“Oh, I do, do I?” Caleb’s head lifted to look at Jester, eyebrows raised in indignation.

“Yuh-huh, how else am I supposed to get into character if there’s no music?” She pursed her lips and sat into one hip to stare at Caleb judgingly. 

His hands flew up in surrender as he shook his head side to side. “I’m afraid I cannot sing.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll do it,” Jester said, already walking back to the right to take her entrance again. 

“Ba da da da, ba da da da da, ba da da da,” Jester hummed as Giselle tip-toed back to Albrecht’s side. “Hmmmm, hm hm, hmmm, haaaa, baaaaaa, da da, daaaa, daaaaaaaaa.”

“You’re very good at that,” Caleb commented as Jester raised her balance to relevé, and then faillied through to run past him.

“Thaaaaaaaaaank you veeeeeeryyyyyyyyyyy muuuuuuuuuuuch,” Jester replied, not breaking the rhythm of the piece as she continued moving. “Deee da dooo, daaaa, daaa, and I thiiiink you staand up nooow.”

Sure enough, Albrecht was rising to his feet behind Giselle, hesitantly reaching for her undead form for the first time. She skirted around him, still humming for the both of them, always barely out of his mortal reach. As she took her piqué, and stepped backwards into his waiting hands to be lifted, a second voice joined hers.

“Aaaand a one, two, threee, aaaand a four, five, six,” came the counts, barely audible, but matched to the tune Jester was singing. She grinned at him as he lowered her from the lift, meeting her in a deep bow before she pulled away again. 

“Heeeeey, you’re doooiiiiiing it,” she giggled as she arced up, then down for the second time in Caleb’s grasp.

“Ja, I guess, five six,” Caleb said, face remaining grief-ridden at the sight of his dead true love. 

Jester flashed him a smile over her shoulder as they split center, before returning to ghastly melancholy as as she took a suspended sus-sous in preparation for the jumps sequence. Each pass, she heard the thunk of her assemblé landing just a moment before Caleb’s and took a mental note to go over that bit later. 

She flitted out of his reach, leaping and tossing imaginary flowers over her shoulder for him to pick up and cherish, humming the whole way through. Even after Albrecht fell back to his knees to pray at her graveside once more, she still heard Caleb’s melodic counts mixing with her own voice, though they had grown slightly quieter now that he was no longer dancing with her. As she bourréed, another out-of-character smile crossed her lips, one that did not fully fade as she took her final leave of the stage.

She waited to the side, watching as Caleb stood and took his final lap of the room, searching for a non-existent sign of Giselle’s soul, before running off for his own exit. His counts trailed off as he approached Jester, whose hands were back on her hips, and whose small grin had grown fuller and smugger. 

“See, that wasn’t very hard, Caleb.” She stuck her tongue out at his eye roll. “You know, I said earlier that I was a weird dancer to figure out, but you seem to be doing a pretty good job. Run through went well  _ and _ you sang with me.”

“Thank you, Jester. But there is still a lot about each other we have left to figure out, I think.”

Jester shrugged. “You mean like how you jump for  _ so long _ ? I keep landing before you in that one bit.”

“Mmm, ja, I noticed that too. I’ll try to jump lower, but also are you accenting the up or the landing?”

“The landing.” 

  
  
“Ah, I see, okay …”

They continued talking through notes and counts together in the last few minutes until Yussah opened the door with two solid claps, signalling a formal start to the rehearsal, when they’d go back and re-fix the things they’d already fixed, before adding more things to be fixed tomorrow, and Yussah would do the singing so Jester and Caleb didn’t have to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw!!!!!!! comments and kudos are appreciated if you are so inclined, or if you'd like to chat about this au or other stuff at my tumblr [cadykeus-clay](https://cadykeus-clay.tumblr.com) please feel free!!!
> 
> Glossary:   
> arabesque: a step with one leg extended straight and raised behind the dancer
> 
> releve: rising onto the balls of the feet (or toe tips, if in pointe shoes) in any balance
> 
> failli: a falling step, in which one leg which has been raised (usually to the back) comes to floor and passes through a closed position as the weight is transferred onto it
> 
> pique: stepping directly into a releve balance 
> 
> sus-sous: a balance in fifth position, with the legs crossed so the ankles are in one line
> 
> assemble: a jump where one leg brushes up as the dancer jumps up, and the legs meet and cross in the air, and remain pressed together as the dancer lands.
> 
> Referenced Videos:  
> [Royal Danish Ballet (2016): full length production](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSx_kqe6ox0)


	4. chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a peek in on rehearsal with some of the finest ladies of the Nicodranas National Ballet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two things  
> #1, sorry that this chap isn't really plot related at all, but I have too many thoughts about all these characters and they way the dance to not just shove them at you sometimes  
> #2, apologies if it's a little messy, I tried real hard to get this chapter out this week!! it's only appropriate that, the week that we get our first official vox machina character in campaign 2, i also bring in the first of the vm gang into this fic ;)  
> hope you all enjoy!!!

“Yeah, no, Yash, he _really_ tried to ask me out at a _gay ba-_ AAH!” Beau’s story was cut off by a body sliding across the room and wrapping its arms around her waist. 

“Heyyyyy Beauuuuu!”

“Hey Jes,” Beau said, grinning, letting her arms droop loosely around Jester’s shoulders. “I was in the middle of telling Yasha ‘bout that freak that was hitting on me when we were out on Saturday.”

Jester’s eyes widened at the memory of the event. “Oh my _gosh_ , yeah that was totally wild, like just watching it was really, gosh, wow. You wouldn’t have even believed it, Yasha. Oh, and hi Yasha!” Before she had even finished speaking, Jester had squirmed out of Beau’s grasp and tossed her arms around Yasha. 

Yasha chuckled softly, giving Jester a squeeze as she said, “Hello, Jester. You seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Well yeah, ‘cause I get to be in rehearsal with you guys!” Jester beamed. “And also ‘cause my last one went really well, Yussah seems to be happy with the pas and I even made Caleb sing a bit before rehearsal.”

“Caleb sang?” Beau asked, incredulous.

“Yeah.” Jester’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “So?”

“So he _never_ does that.”

“You don’t like to sing either Beau, I bet you never even asked him to,” Jester said, back already turned to Beau as she wandered over to the side wall to dig through her bag for her ankle warmers.

“I …” Beau trailed off, not wanting to admit that Jester was right.

She was brought back to reality by a soft tap on her shoulder. “If you don’t mind, Beau, I’d love to hear the end of that story.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Beau fumbled for a moment, blushing as she remembered she had been telling Yasha about her gay bar experiences, before continuing as requested. 

Across the room, the door cracked open and another dancer slipped through, barely squeezing her body through the crack she had left herself, feet stepping extra lightly. She kept her head low as she slunk along the side wall to warm up in a back corner, feeling mildly out of place as both the newest and the most senior dancer in the room, not wanting to make a big scene about entering the room. Unfortunately, Jester made a scene for her. 

“KEEEEEEEEYLETH, HELLO!” she yelled, tossing her hands in the air and waving them vigorously. The one leg warmer she hadn’t managed to put on yet flopped helplessly in her grasp.

At the mention of her name, Keyleth spun about, frozen in a position which was half greeting and half terrified defensive state. Realizing who had called her, she waved her hands back, the rest of her still frozen for a moment. As Jester hoisted herself off the floor and began walking over, she glanced over the room quickly. Some of the corps members who had been chatting in groups were now staring, a mixture of starry eyed and judgemental, at her.

“Hey Jester,” Keyleth said, rubbing at one arm and shrinking slightly from the attention.

“Keyleth oh my gosh, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you, and its technically only been three days, but like, I missed you,” Jester rushed, drawing Keyleth up in a quick hug. Keyleth returned the affection for a moment before drawing away and falling into a loose forearm-to-forearm grip with the other dancer. 

“Yeah, I know,” she said, genuine smile accompanying a low, quiet voice. “How’s it been having to re-learn our whole part?” 

“Not too bad, actually, Caleb’s a pretty good partner, I don’t have any complaints, really. He does the part well. He might be an even sadder Albrecht than Vax is.”

“Is that possible?”

“Wait ‘til we start having rehearsals together again, then you’ll see. He has this absolutely heartbreaking little smile thing that he does. It’s like. Really depressing.”

Keyleth laughed, loud. “Cannot wait to see it. We should probably start warming up, though, yeah?”

Jester groaned, but let her arms drop from Keyleth’s as she trailed her to the back of the room, where the two of them began to re-awaken all the joints and muscles that had grown lax in the short few minutes since they had last danced.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Jester was sitting in the front corner of the room, back smushed against the mirror, sandwiched between her best friend and her body double, watching Yasha fly through the choreography with an enrapturing, ferocious grace. Music filled the studio as Dairon clapped slowly, calling out counts and cues every so often. The corps of wilis floated across the stage, each step carefully practiced and executed, sixteen girls in practice tutus moving as one ethereal unit. Jester found herself breathing in time with them, and the melody pouring out of the speakers, without even thinking about it. 

God. She fucking loved being a ballerina. 

“Out, two, stay together, two, keep the arms, light, and in, two,” Dairon chanted as the wilis swayed towards and away from each other, crashing and ebbing like the gentlest waves. 

Sixteen dull thuds of pointe shoes hitting the floor echoed through the room, almost in unison, as the wilis settled. Only one figure was left moving, pulled from off stage by some unseen power. Keyleth drew in an excited gasp and clasped her hands.

“Woo, Allura!” she cheered, just a bit too loud to be considered ‘under her breath’.

“Yeah, Allura!” Jester echoed, slightly louder than Keyleth. Then, as the second demi-soloist stepped in from the other side of the stage, she let out a smattering of claps. “And YEAH, CALI!!”

Cali couldn’t quite fight the grin that pulled at her lips, and the break in character was enough to cause Dairon to shoot a glare at the group of soloists. Beau’s hands were already crossed, but she crossed them further so Dairon could tell she wasn’t part of the mischief. She also smacked Jester in the shin with her foot. 

“Ow, _fuck_ , Beau,” Jester whined, rubbing at her leg, “you’re wearing pointe shoes, that _hurts._ ”

“Shhh,” Beau shushed. “Dairon’s not happy.”

Jester rolled her eyes, before leaning over to Keyleth and whispering, explicitly loud enough for Beau to hear, “Dairon’s the only teacher who’s managed to get Beau to kiss their ass.”

Keyleth, whose expression had gone tense and whose hands had dropped limply into her lap at Dairon’s disapproving look, snorted and curled into herself trying to contain further laughter. Beau stuck out her tongue and kicked Jester in the shin again. Jester squealed and leaned into Keyleth, trying to squirm away from Beau’s vicious feet. Dairon let out a _very_ pointed cough, and the three dancers fell still and silent almost immediately. 

Not two seconds later, the music had cut out and they prepared themselves to be seriously chewed out for disrupting the rehearsal. They all let out a sigh of relief as they realized Dairon was addressing the corps instead. 

“Girls, girls, you _have_ to know the counts on this duet bit. You’re facing different directions and moving in a circle, there’s no way we can assign someone for you all to cue off. You have _got_ to piqué on two, hit the balance on three, _every time_. I don’t care if you’re off your leg, you figure something out, because right now it looks like a mess. Take it again from the demi-soloist entrances. I’ll count. Five and a, six and a, seven and a, eight …”

Seeing that Dairon would be running these counts with the corps until they could grab hands and piqué around their partner in their sleep, Yasha took the opportunity to join the other soloists sitting against the mirror. Jester let out a happy squeak as she approached, balled-up hands shaking excitedly in the air.

“Yasha, oh my gosh, you looked so pretty, I can’t even believe it, you make such a good queen of the wilis, I’m so excited to be with you on stage, in your _costume_ , you’re going to look so beautiful, oh my gosh,” Jester whispered excitedly.

“Thank you Jester,” Yasha whispered back, ducking her head out of the way of the compliment. “I did mess up a little bit, though.”

“Eh.” Beau shrugged and leaned around Jester to meet Yasha’s gaze. “We literally have the same part and I could barely tell, so I think you did fine.”

Yasha looked up at her with a slight smile. “You flatter me, Beau.”

“Yeah, well, it’s true, so…”

“I appreciate it.”

Beau’s attention was suddenly transfixed to her hangnails. Luckily, Jester had more than enough conversation to cover the silence. 

“The penchées at the beginning were so smooth, like, you barely even wobbled at all and your leg got so high, it was so pretty to watch, Yasha, like, seriously, wow.”

“And you killed that straight leg relevé at the end,” Keyleth added, words hushed as though she was still trying to avoid being noticed. 

“Oh my gosh, yesssssssssssssssssssss!” Jester added, tossing her head back in reverence at the step. 

“Yeah, that was pretty hot,” Beau admitted, looking back up from her nails. “I don’t know how you do it. Those things are the bane of my fuckin’ existence.”

“Oh, you know, it’s really nothing,” Yasha insisted.

  
  
“Yuh-huh, it is!” Jester protested.

Beau responded simultaneously, “Yash, you’re like the only one in the company who can actually do them.”

“Besides Keyleth!” Jester added.

“Oh, no, I definitely can’t,” Keyleth said, shaking her head vigorously. 

“You totally can, I’ve seen you do them in class before, don’t sell yourself short Keyleth.” Jester furrowed her brow as she spoke, to ensure that Keyleth knew she would be accepting this compliment or else.

“Ladies!” Dairon called, jerking them all out of their conversation, “We’ll be taking this from the same place, with music, and we’ll keep going. Places, please.”

Yasha hoisted herself to her feet with a small grunt, making her way to the back of the room as the music picked up and she waited for her next entrance. Once again, Allura, followed by Cali stepped from the wings, meeting each other front and center as the corps filed into lines behind them.The girls, all paired off, linked hands and began to spiral around each other in delicate circles, balancing after each step.

“Stay together, we just went over this, that’s better, yes, okay,” Dairon said, words almost grating against the slow, lilting flutes pouring from the speaker system.

Yasha moved out of the wing, pulling to center stage and holding still as the corps fanned out around her, falling to the floor in reverence for their queen. She called Cali to dance yet again, then Allura, and then herself. They moved with a lingering quality, always barely behind the count; not enough to earn Dairon’s ire, but enough to make anyone watching feel as though they hadn’t fully made it back to this plane yet, that their spirits were still caught between worlds as they danced. As Yasha slunk into the wings and Cali and Allura made their final passes, the corps began to fill in behind them.

At first, it was just a few girls. They dove into arabesques, sharper and more energetic than they had been just moments ago. More dancers filtered in, and a few more arabesques pulled them towards each other before they broke apart, and yet another row of girls ran to their places to join the movement. The music, too, was picking up, a slow undercurrent of woodwinds accenting the offbeats and giving an urgency that had been absent for the first part of the act.

Cali and Allura returned yet again, shooting into the angular position to match the swath of wilis behind them. This time, the spirits did not stop after a few hops. They pulled across the stage, weaving between each other in a sea of white skirts and legs, somehow still and buzzing with life at the same time. As they turned tail and passed through each other once more, it became apparent: the wilis had power. They had precision. They were forces to be reckoned with, and something had drawn them to this plane with _purpose_. Even having seen the ballet many a time, it left Jester breathless. 

“You know, I almost wish this wasn’t my first time doing this ballet. I would’ve killed to do the corps just for this bit,” she told Keyleth.

“Mmm. Same.”

“Haven’t you done Giselle before, though?”

“Never corps. First time I did it was BToE’s first season. Vax and I had the same roles we do now.” Keyleth smiled, absentmindedly playing with the small gold ring on her left hand. “First pas we ever did together, actually.”

Jester was utterly torn between a response of, “aww” and a response of “haha, Bee-toe.”

She knew, of course, that BToE stood for Ballet Theater of Emon. And she knew that that company had been founded after Yussah got too frustrated with the artistic director of the Tal’dorei National Ballet. He had up and left TNB down a ballet master, and went to form his own company with any dancers who felt like following. It had been successful, if under-staffed, for five-ish years, but was eventually absorbed into the Nicodranas City Ballet. 

That is, after cutting a very hefty amount of BToE company dancers and taking a smaller than usual pool of promotions within NCB, which created quite a bit of tension that undercut the usual starstruck feeling of getting talented guest artists in the company. Tension that made Keyleth feel extremely out of place when she showed up to rehearsals for the lead role. Tension that made Jester wary about being friends with the new members because she was already wrapped up in enough studio drama regarding the Director and her mama. Tension that she mostly ignored because she really liked being friends with people.

Jester knew all this, but none of it changed the fact that BToE was a really funny acronym, especially for a dance company. She opted for “haha Bee-Toe.” Keyleth rolled her eyes, but also laughed.

The speakers cut out, music transforming to a low electronic hum as Dairon called out more instructions. “Corps, you can take five. Giselles, with me. We’re setting your first little bit here.”

Jester flopped forwards dramatically, so she was supported on her knees and hands. She dragged her legs in towards her hands and then rolled up with a mild groan, before reaching out a hand to help pull Keyleth off the floor. She made her way towards where Dairon was standing on stage right, bouncing from foot to foot as she walked to re-warm up the feet muscles that had grown cold. 

“So, ladies, your cue is when the queen bows facing stage right and brings her arm up, like this…”

  


* * *

  


Beau bowed, one leg sliding against the floor behind as the other bent, and her arm dipped low. Her hand barely brushed the ground, trailing through the air as though it was thick as she straightened up. Her gaze was menacing and direct as she called Keyleth forth from the wings. Her eyes locked onto her Giselle with a ferocity that said _you have no choice but to do as I say._

When Beau moved, she was crisp and direct. Her jumps were always clean, always with a moment where she hovered, frozen, before landing. Her balances were short, but clear, and when she stepped she seemed to teleport from one foot to the other, shifting so quickly and seamlessly that it almost seemed like an invisible force had pulled her from leg to leg, rather than her moving herself. Her arms were placed with a flourish and a flick, a harsh stillness against the softness of the ballet. There was no doubt that her queen of the wilis was a leader, a powerful one, and that she held every card worth playing in her own hand.

It was almost unbelievable how different it was from the way Yasha had just danced in her run with Jester. When Yasha called Jester on stage, she did not look at Jester, she looked through her. She did the same thing whenever she looked at another dancer, or out at the audience. She was always staring, but never finding a target, eyes constantly searching just past the horizon for something no one else could see, something not of this mortal dimension. And being stared at like that, drawn forth with that lost, empty stare, was haunting in a way Jester could barely begin to describe. She almost felt as though she was actually just a spirit and that she had left her body in some other corner of the studio.

When _Yasha_ danced, it was smooth and lingering. Her jumps seemed to barely leave the ground, floating only just as high as was necessary to move her feet, and then she’d descend at a rate that seemed slower than people could actually fall. Her balances didn’t have a start or an end, you’d just realize partway through that she was doing one, and a few seconds later that it had ended. Every step flowed into the next like a waterfall, pushing eternally to some unseen destination. Her arms were deceptively soft and inviting, a trap that Giselle could not help but walk into. She seemed to be constantly trailing herself, her body following the energy of her moment like a ghost. She was eerie and unsettling to watch, so clearly not of this world, that the audience was left terrified of what fate might befall them if they were to disrupt whatever plans this wili had.

And Keyleth, gosh, Keyleth. She had years of experience behind her that Jester did not, and it showed when she danced. While Jester certainly didn’t think poorly of her own technique, Keyleth’s seniority displayed itself through mastery of the simplest moments. Every sus-sous was perfectly crossed, every arabesque raised to exactly horizontal. She didn’t have an extra bounce when she landed her jumps, like Jester often did. Her legs didn’t go quite as high and Jester’s, but it didn’t even matter, because she had a way of captivating anyone who watched without showing off. 

(Not that there was anything wrong with showing off. Jester loved to show off. But she did also hold a sense of admiration for the way that Keyleth danced, and spent quite a bit of time watching her in rehearsal, trying to figure out how to move like that.)

As Keyleth hopped in attitude, turning like a coin spun on its end, Jester wondered how she managed to look so calm and frantic at the same time. She finished the last of the jumps and ran into the wings, she met Jester’s gaze with a half-scowl on her face.

“Yikes,” she said, bracing her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

“Keyleth, no, it looked _good_ ,” Jester insisted.

“My leg was so low the whole time, Jes! It was like, sixty degrees at best.”

“So? You’re going too fast for them to even really see anyway. At least you can stay in one spot when you do the hops, I always pull stage left somehow.”

“Eh, we got time. You’ll fix it.”

Jester gave a non-committal humph.

Keyleth continued trying to catch her breath.

As the last of the wilis trailed off stage, leaving only Beau, motioning to some unseen figure and the sound of a solitary oboe, Keyleth jerked her thumb at the empty space.

“This is us again,” she said.

“Fuck, _already_?” Jester groaned.

“Mhm. This is Albrecht’s entrance.”

“Oh _shit_ , for the first pas?”

“Yup.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yup.”

Dairon’s voice cut off Jesters lament as she announced, “Thank you, dancers, we’ll end here tonight. Good rehearsal, don’t forget anything, I’ll be seeing most of you tomorrow, yes?”

A chorus of “yes”s and “thank you, Dairon”s echoed as the corps all bowed before scattering to collect their things, followed by the soloists. Jester trudged her way to the side wall where she had laid her bag, next to Beau’s and practically collapsed to sitting. 

“Jes, you done for the night?” Beau asked as she pulled the laces of her pointe shoes loose.

Jester shook her head. “God, I wish. I’ve still got another rehearsal. Gotta start re-setting act one with Caleb. I’ll be home around seven.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right. Do you want me to wait for you?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine coming home alone.”

“Okay. Just don’t do anything too crazy without me, OK Jes?”

“Don’t worry, Beau. I’ll make this the most plain, boring, rest of my day ever. Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, hope you all enjoyed!!! sorry if it was super dance heavy, but ya author has been in a walking boot for a stress fracture for the past 3 weeks and i needed Somewhere to channel all the pent up "i wanna dance" energy
> 
> update from january: i swear on my life im still working on this but forgive me bc i do not know when the next update will be, life has sure been. happening. 
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are appreciated, and ur welcome to come hit up my tumblr @[cadykeus-clay](https://cadykeus-clay.tumblr.com)!!
> 
> Glossary:  
> corps (de ballet): the corps de ballet is the group of dancers who do only ensemble work in a ballet. They will often pose and stand on the sides of the stage while the soloists are dancing. This is the lowest rank a dancer can have, and is where most dancers start upon joining a company.
> 
> Wilis: the characters around which the second act of Giselle revolves. They are the spirits of women who died with a broken heart, and they exist to torment the souls of men who are unfaithful to their loves. They raise Giselle as one of their own, and try to kill Albrecht in revenge, but she ends up refusing to join their ranks and saving Albrecht’s life from their fury
> 
> Body double: used to mean two dancers who are sharing a role, each dancing in about half the performances so as not to overwork either one. Rarely does this happen with corps de ballet, it usually only happens with higher level soloists. 
> 
> (practice) tutu: A tutu is a skirt made for dancing in, with many many layers of tulle (very light fabric). A platter tutu (aka pancake tutu) looks like a horizontal circle at hip height, whereas a romantic tutu is a longer, about calf length, layered skirt. All the dancers in Giselle wear romantic tutus. Practice tutus are usually made of very plain tulle (solid white, or occasionally solid black) and have significantly less layers than the performance tutus, which are usually decorated with beading, intricate stitch-work, and satin or other fabric overlays.
> 
> pique: a step directly into a balance (rather than rising from a flat foot to a balance on the ball of the foot). 
> 
> Demi-soloist: a role between the corps and a soloist. This dancer will do much of their dancing with the corps, but may have a few feature moments where they do a little solo work or a small group bit with other demi-soloists. However, they will not have a variation like a soloist would. 
> 
> Penchee: a step in which a dancer takes one leg behind her and then bends forward to let the leg go as far up in the back as it can. 
> 
> Arabesque: a position with one leg straight and held in the air behind the dancer.
> 
> Ballet master: one of the higher up employees at a ballet company who is in charge of teaching class and rehearsing/setting ballets on the company members. The artistic director is sometimes called the first ballet master, while other teachers below them may be called second ballet masters. This person is a very seasoned dancer who has retired from performing to a more administrative/pedagogical position.
> 
> Attitude: a position with one leg slightly bent and held in the air behind the dancer.
> 
> Referenced Vids:  
> [Royal Danish Ballet (2016)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSx_kqe6ox0)


	5. chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rehearsals at the end of the day always get a little bit unhinged, and Jester and Caleb's act 1 rehearsal is no exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no you are not mistaken, the world is crumbling and so is my writer's block, this fic is alive for the first time in nearly 6 months, welcome to the thunderdome.
> 
> seriously though, apologies for the wait time, college is. Busy sometimes. but I promise that I will bring this fic to completion even if there's some several month breaks in there. I want to see it to the end just as much if not more than all of you, and it will get done. Eventually. For now, enjoy TWO! new chapters :3

“Caleb, you are  _ not _ allowed to sit on my lap, you have COOTIES!” Jester yelled, holding him at bay with a hand on his stomach.

Caleb tried to push her hand out of the way and step closer, but he was laughing too hard to control very well where his arms went. He ended up swinging at the air and side-stepping around Jester without getting nearer. “Yeah, well, you also have cooties, so scoot over, will you?”

He pushed at her thigh with one hand as she half-screeched, half-giggled from her spot on a folding chair. She leaned away from him in mock fear and he seized the opportunity to slide onto the very thin strip of area she had left on his side of the chair. He attempted to scowl at her, which proved very difficult while still laughing, and even more difficult while falling off the chair because one inch of chair cannot support a grown man. 

Caleb slammed to the floor, causing Jester to momentarily fall into genuine concern as she leaned over to check and make sure he was alright. When he shoved his entire palm in her face and shouted “Haha got you!”, she decided to take that as a sign that he was fine. She swatted at his hand, and leaned back to stay out of reach with enough vigor to cause the chair to fully tip the other direction and send her to the floor as well.

It was not a very sturdy chair, which is why Yussah had left rehearsal with Keyleth and Vax to locate one of their set benches, so that they could practice some of Albrecht and Giselle’s act one flirtations without crashing to their asses. And Yussah leaving Jester and Caleb alone is how they both ended up lying on the marley, laughing too hard to stand back up.

It had started rather simply. Yussah had been explaining that Albrecht and Giselle were going to be doing some kind of childish, superstitious love test as part of the choreography. However, Common not being his first language and a lack of a prop flower to pull petals from had led to him pinching his thumb and forefinger together on both hands and pulling them towards and away from each other in silence while he searched for a word. After watching him flounder for a few seconds, Caleb had mumbled, “Cootie catcher?”, not expecting anyone to hear. Jester very much heard, and had to stifle a giggle because it really did look like he was playing an invisible cootie catcher.

She wasn’t sure why it was so funny. Maybe because Caleb had said it with a completely straight face, or maybe because he had also started to move his fingers apart and together as he asked the question. Maybe because just before this in the choreography, Giselle refuses to let Albrecht share a bench and if she was doing it because she thought he might have cooties, that would be utterly hilarious. Maybe it was just the end of a long rehearsal at the end of a long day and Jester was extremely slap-happy. Probably it was all of those.

It certainly didn’t help that Caleb met her gaze while she was trying to swallow her laughs, failing to fight a smile off his own lips. But Jester  _ did _ like knowing that he found the idea of the two of them playing cootie catcher on stage as funny as she did. 

She also liked it when, during their next run of the section, at the part where Albrecht grabbed Giselle’s wrist and spun her towards him, pulling their faces close together, Caleb also whispered, “I have cooties.” Neither of them could break eye contact, and they ended up squeezing each other’s hands very hard in an attempt to not break character.

She liked it when, later that run, Jester tipped off the chair and, after Yussah had cut the music, she looked up at Caleb and announced “I’d rather break a bone than catch your cooties,” causing him to double over laughing. 

And she  _ really _ liked it when, after Yussah had left to find a safer chair and they were marking through what they’d learned because they had nothing else to do, she mimed doing a cootie catcher instead of plucking petals, and informed Caleb. “You have fatal cooties,” which made him laugh so hard he snorted, froze, and then kept laughing even harder.

“Ple-ease,” he had said, still chuckling. “I love you so much Giselle, let me give you my cooties.”

“You can’t!” she wailed, “I’m already so sick, I’ll die before we even get to my variation, I’m supposed to die  _ after _ it.”

Caleb then mimed a cootie catcher of his own, moving his fingers open one way, closed, then open the other way with exaggerated precision. He reached into empty space, pretending to lift a flap of paper and read it intently. He looked up at Jester, forlornly. 

“I’m so sorry. It says you already have them.”

Jester reached for Caleb’s hands, snatching at air and pretending to open and close the stolen cootie catcher. Her hands moved through the space clumsily as she refused to break eye contact with Caleb, screwing up her mouth in an over-sized frown. 

“Well, this one says your cooties are  _ worse! _ ”

Caleb pinched his fingers quickly, less precise than before, grin breaking across his face. “This one says you should let me share your chair.”

Jester, grinning back, jumbled her fingers in some sort of vague open and closing pattern before, announcing “This one says no!” and nudging Caleb’s shin with her foot.

“Mmm, I think yes,” Caleb responded, hoisting himself to his feet, laughter beginning to shake his whole body.

“No-o-o-!” Jester cried, giggles breaking up the word as she curled herself protectively around the chair.

Caleb pushed at her shoulder and she swiped a foot at his leg again. He jumped out of the way, causing her to release an expletive that sent them both into a laughing fit. 

He placed his hands on her knees, shaking them lightly as he drawled in faux desperation, “Let me ooooooon!”

“Caleb, you are  _ not _ allowed to sit on my lap,” she said, barely producing words between peals of laughter, “you have COOTIES!”

And then, shortly after, the chair gave out and dumped the both of them onto the floor. They barely had time to collect themselves before Yussah was cracking open the door, Vax and Keyleth were each carrying one side of a bench, and Jester and Caleb were springing to their feet, launched back into focus now that their rehearsal director had returned. 

“Dancers, thank you for waiting. I’ll set the bench and then each couple can take one full run and call it a night, yes?”

* * *

It was weird, how dancing with Caleb didn’t feel weird at all. 

Well, okay, it still felt a little weird. But pretty much everything Jester was dancing at this point felt weird; she hadn’t had time to get it in her body yet. She was still moving half a second behind her mind, delicately juggling the order of the steps as she did them, splitting herself between her character and her memory. But the point is that it didn’t feel  _ more _ weird because Caleb was there. Maybe it was just that this scene was already supposed to be awkward, so if there was still lingering awkwardness, it didn’t feel wrong. But Jester was starting to feel like she was getting used to Caleb. 

“Getting used to” felt like a mean phrase. It wasn’t like Caleb was a nasty, awful guy and Jester was just trying to put up with him, and now it was easier to hold down her gags whenever they had to put their hands on each other. She’d had partners like that, on rare occasion before. That wasn’t this.    


It was more like … she was growing into him.

She had figured out how hard to jump so that she could linger half a second at the top of their lifts without him having to strain. She knew how far he turned out his back knee when he kneeled, and was able to cheat pretty close when she circled him without kicking his foot anymore. His hands no longer felt foreign when they connected with her hips to steady them. 

He was growing into her, too. He had figured out just how deep he had to cheat his lunges so that her arm didn’t look awkward draped around his shoulders. He could tell when she was going to fall out of a balance, so that he could move into the space a half second after. He no longer hesitated to take her weight when she gave it to him, because she knew just how much to give so that they’d teeter on the brink of collapse without falling over. 

Most of the time, at least. There were still a good manner of slip ups, of course. Yussah was always adding more choreography, and even principal ballerinas have to rehearse for weeks before they’re ready to perform. But even the mistakes they made felt shared in a way they hadn’t a week ago. It wasn’t Jester messing up, or Caleb. It was the both of them, messing up together. 

“Hold, hold, hold!” Yussah called, shattering Jester’s train of thought.

Ah, fuck. They’d messed up. 

“Lavorre, don’t sit on the bench like that,” Yussah continued, lurching out of his chair and crossing the room to man-handle Jester’s sitting position. “Half the audience won’t be able to see your face, and the other half won’t be able to see  _ him _ from behind your torso. Here, here, move up, Not that far - yes, there. Now, there, turn your shoulders like  _ that _ , better, better! And you, Widogast, Scoot up. Get right up under the bench. No need to be shy, get in her space. You only have four minutes to fall in love here, actually look like you’re trying to.”

Caleb pulled himself forwards a few inches, wedging himself as close to the bench as he could muster, and glanced up to re-gauge his proximity to Jester. He found her to be doing the same thing. In the same second their eyes met, he caught a flash of movement in his periphery - Jester’s fingers flicking through another quick open and close of the invisible cootie catcher. Caleb smiled despite himself and dropped his head in defeat, unable to see Jester crack into a grin, but hearing her let out a muffled squeak of laughter. 

“One more time from the top, please!” Yussah called, having found his way back to the CD player to rewind the music. 

Jester and Caleb both jumped to their feet, immediately shot back into performance mode as they split from the bench and found their starting positions.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It started with a knock, three quick raps, and then Albrecht ducked out of the way, hidden from Giselle’s sight as she tip-toed out through the door.

Or at least, that’s how it would go on the stage with the full prop. But here in the studio, the door was fake and Jester had to pretend that she couldn’t see Caleb a couple inches from her face as she looked innocently about. Pretend that the exaggerated face he was pulling, with his eyebrows halfway up his forehead and his mouth pressing together in terror, wasn’t visible. Pretend that it wasn’t a little endearing that he stayed in character despite being “offstage”, because  _ her _ character had no idea who had just drawn her from the house and was going to investigate. 

She stepped into the center of the room, beginning a sequence of small ballonnés and ballottés scattered between runs as she circled the stage, feet swapping excitedly underneath her in the air. Jump, jump, run, search for the mystery knocker, repeat. 

  
  
“Good, Lavorre, good energy,” Yussah called out, somehow managing to put even more pep into Jester’s step.

After two failed attempts to locate anyone else, she settled in the downstage corner, back turned oh-so-conveniently to the place where Albrecht was hiding. She curtsied to no one, face turning to the ground as she imagined meeting the mystery man who had knocked on her door.

Three steps back, cut the third one short because - Jester’s body shuddered lightly as it slammed into Caleb’s, as planned. Just enough collision to be funny to the audience, but not enough to actually smash her head into his chin (as Keyleth and Vax had so unfortunately demonstrated earlier that rehearsal). 

Giselle stepped away, embarrassed in the face of her fantasy come true. Jester made sure to leave one hand trailing ever so slightly behind her, so Albrecht could reach out and grab it. 

“Smile more, Widogast,” yelled Yussah, as Albrecht met Giselle’s overwhelmed glance with a blank expression rather than a reassuring one. 

“Better,” he added as Caleb’s lips turned up in the slightest hint of a grin the second time he reached for Jester. 

It fell quick, however, as Giselle pulled away and dashed across the stage. Albrecht moved to cut her off, so she asked in mime if he had knocked and he told her no, expressionless again. His smile returned, ever so briefly, when Giselle explained that she was a dancer and Jester let a matching grin flourish the end of her soutenu turn. 

He grabbed her hand again, tugging her in to link arms so they could travel together towards the bench Yussah had just fetched. Jester sat, flaring out an imaginary skirt to either side before looking at Albrecht’s concerned face with a mischievous innocence. As she scooted sideways once to allow him on, and then again to leave room for modesty, she couldn’t help but look amused. It was already fun to fuck with Caleb, but this part was all too similar to the chair fight they’d had not fifteen minutes earlier. 

As she slipped off the bench and started to walk away yet again, Albrecht grabbed her and pulled her towards him once more. They stood face to face, holding hands, focused for now on the ground at their feet. The music seemed to slow almost imperceptibly, and cut to a lone violin, casting a sense of intimacy over the moment. 

Cue the cheesy slow look up into each other’s eyes that Jester could barely take seriously. 

Nothing about Caleb, of course, but she honestly thought the whole thing was kind of stupid and it definitely looked really silly from the audience. She always looked at Caleb’s butt chin instead, because she knew she’d definitely lose it if she had to actually hold his gaze for that long. Thankfully, Caleb seemed to share that sentiment, not being all that big on eye contact. When she shifted up to meet his gaze at the last second, she caught his own line of sight flickering over from somewhere in her forehead vicinity.

He stepped away, hastily, and began a quick balletic mime. A hand on the sternum for “I”, the other extended towards Giselle for “you”, both hands folding over the heart for “love”. He paused for a moment, then lifted two fingers, extending the hand away from his chest in the sign for “marriage”. As Giselle ran to pull his hand down, fearing hastiness, Jester cursed herself for being so short that she had to get all the way up on relevé to reach it. 

She motioned for Albrecht to wait, and then ran to the side of the stage, grabbing a pretend flower from the pretend door, and sat down on the bench, extremely conscious of the tilt of her torso this time around.

“Alright, that’s okay,” assured Yussah, making no moves to shut the music off again.

Jester had barely breathed a sigh of relief before she was shoving down laughter because god  _ damn _ it, she had no prop flower to pull petals off of and it still really looked like a cootie catcher, and she could feel the sharp exhale of breath on her elbow as Caleb stifled a giggle at her side. It took everything in her to force a frown as Giselle counted the petals, realized there were one too many for a happy ending, and left the bench. 

Behind her, Caleb ripped a petal off and tossed it aside - a choreographic touch taken from Vax himself, as he had mildly bragged while the part was getting set. He handed Giselle the pretend flower, with the right amount of pretend petals, and offered her an arm to link for the next phrase.

Mimicking the jumps from the beginning, they bounced arm in arm, the movements livelier and bigger in each other’s company. Jester backed away, staggering side to side as she dodged Caleb’s grasp again, though by this point the shyness had become an act even for Giselle. After another set of leaps about the stage, her glancing over her shoulder to make sure Albrecht was keeping up, she gave him a slight kiss on the forehead before falling back into his arms. 

After a frozen moment, Caleb pushed Jester back to her feet, and she tumbled out of the position gracelessly, the known choreography finished and the music cutting off mid-note as Yussah paused the CD. 

“Better, dancers, better. That’s good enough, good night,” he informed them, already gathering his things from the piano.

A smattering of applause filled the studio, from Jester and Caleb as well as Vax and Keyleth who had been pressed against the side wall, watching. They bowed in respect as Yussah trudged from the room, before gathering their things in quick silence, exhausted and ready to leave for home.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed!! as always please comment if you're so inclined, and feel free to hit up my tumblr at cadykeus-clay if you wanna talk to me about this fic, widojest, or cr in general!
> 
> Referenced Videos:  
> Royal Danish Ballet Version (this particular scene runs from about 9:01 to 13:33)
> 
> Glossary:  
> marley: a flooring material common for stages and dance studios. It's kinda plasticy??
> 
> ballone: A jump where a dancer goes up and down on one leg while the other kicks out and comes back in while the dancer is in the air.
> 
> ballote: A jump where a dancer switches legs midair by tucking one in and kicking the other out. 
> 
> soutenou: A simple turn with the legs kept together and crossed.
> 
> balletic mime: A type of mime movement with a very specific vocabulary, used in ballets to convey plot that's too hard with just dance. Usually a scene will have one long mime section (a left-over from some of the pre-ballet dance styles where ballet was more like plays with dancing for Pizzazz. It's actually really cool but I'm getting side-tracked...)
> 
> releve: rising on to the balls of the feet to balance


	6. chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief, dancers do go home sometimes! First peek at Jester and Caleb out of the confines of the NCB studio, and the return of a familiar face at the end :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of the update please forgive me for how long this took

The door to the break room rattled closed, echoing in the near empty space. Jester fumbled around for her shoes, which were somewhere over by the blue couch, she was pretty sure. Securing one, she tugged it on with a grunt and began to peer for the other. The door shook again as it slammed behind Caleb, who had slipped in to grab a pair of headphones left on the break table. 

“No Beauregard?” he asked, noting that they were alone in the room.

“Uh-uh,” Jester said. “She was done early today, I told her to just leave without me.”

“You’re going home by yourself, then?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s dark out.”

“So?” Jester looked up at Caleb to find his expression flat, tinged with hints of concern. She rolled her eyes. “I’m not five, I  _ can _ take the train home after dark.”

“Yeah, but I can also drive you, though.” He wound the headphones around his fingers as he talked, weaving through the gaps and then reversing it all, again and again. 

“You don’t live anywhere near me, Caleb.”

“It’s not that far out of my way.”

“You really don’t have to, it’s fine,” she said, locating her other shoe partially beneath the couch and flattening her torso to the floor to fish for it.

“It’s later than usual for you to be leaving, and -”

“It’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!”

  
  
“Ok, yes, but -”

“Ah  _ fuck _ ,” Jester whined, holding up the boot for Caleb to see, the small heel peeling away from the sole of the shoe and dangling in the air. “It’s your lucky night, Caleb.”

Caleb’s froze, headphones halfway detached from his fingers, eyes on Jester, silent with confusion.

Jester kept the shoe aloft as she explained, “You wanted to drive me home so bad and fate broke my shoe so now I don’t feel like walking to the subway station in it.”

“Oh.” His hands started moving again, pulling the headphones loose once and for all before shoving them into a pocket. “Well, I am sorry about your shoe, but at least it’s settled things.” 

“Yah,” Jester said, stretching out the word in way that Caleb wasn’t quite sure whether it was meant to be an imitation of his accent. 

He watched as she pulled the other boot on, jerking her leg in the air a little bit to watch the heel flop around before getting to her feet and gesturing to Caleb to lead the way. He headed towards the door, holding it open for the both of them, then turning towards the exit to the street. 

* * *

  
  


Caleb’s car had like, a weird musty smell to it. That’s the first thing Jester noticed. It wasn’t, bad, really? But it was definitely not how cars normally smelled and she had no idea why it smelled like that but whatever it smelled like was very much a Caleb sort of smell, and she wasn’t sure what that meant but she was sure that it was true.

The second thing she noticed was that it was absolutely silent. She was used to Fjord’s car, where the engine grumbled super loud and definitely used way too much gas, or Nott’s, where she never turned the radio off before shutting down the car, so the second the ignition came on, the stereo was also blasting. 

“It’s really quiet in here, Caleb,” she commented as he began slowly reversing out of the parking spot. 

“Sorry,” Caleb mumbled, checking both ways at least three times for cars that definitely weren’t there because Keyleth and Vax had left the studio before them. “Do you want to listen to something? There’s no bluetooth, but I can put on the radio, or there should be music on CDs in the glove compartment?”

“CDs?” Jester asked, exaggerating the surprise in her voice. “I thought you would like, only listen to - just get on Third Street, that’s usually fastest - to podcasts or books on tape or like. Ambient noise tracks.”

“Well, I do listen to a lot of podcasts, but I didn’t suggest them because I thought you’d think they were boring.”

Jester huffed and crossed her arms. “I’ll have you know, I’m  _ highly _ intellectual, Caleb, and I can appreciate a good podcast.”

“There’s one that I like about economics, and I’m in the middle of an episode about the bicycle industry in eighteenth century Tal’Dorei, and -”

“Ohhhhhh my god, okay, you were right, that’s so boring,” Jester groaned, already searching in for the latch to the glove compartment.

“Told you so,” Caleb said, smugness apparent in his voice. 

Jester stuck her tongue out at him, adding a snarky noise so he could tell that she was doing it without taking his eyes off the road. 

Caleb sat a stoplight, the glow from the street lamp above illuminating Jester’s side of the car enough for her to see the button that would release the glove compartment. She pressed it, letting it flop open to the most organized glove compartment she’d ever seen. The car manuals were actually placed nicely along the bottom, with some other papers stacked on top, and a CD carrier that gave her serious childhood nostalgia placed carefully at the peak of the pile. She unzippered it, trying to glance through album titles in the half-seconds she had where the streetlights shone through the windows. 

Her eye was drawn to one CD that looked to have the pattern of a lipstick mark on it. The title was written in small, scratchy letters, but with a few well-timed glances when she had light, it seemed to be called “Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me”. It seemed cute enough. Caleb didn’t  _ really _ strike her as the type to listen to love-y cutsey music like she did, but like, people have eclectic tastes or whatever. 

About ten seconds after she slid it into the CD player, she was beginning to doubt her assumptions on what kind of music this was. Lonely bass and drum repeated the same monotone riff over and over in a mildly unsettling way. Thirty seconds after, the guitar kicked in and began a similarly mind-numbing repetitive melody. It started to get a little warped-sounding, or maybe that was just her imagination? She couldn’t really tell because this song was starting to weird her out, just a little, and the only reason she knew it had been going on for four minutes already when the guy finally began singing (though ‘singing’ might be a less appropriate word than ‘wailing’) was because she knew how far away this intersection was from the studio.

“Next light, go right,” she said, noticing that Caleb’s fingertips had been drumming lightly at the steering wheel in perfect time with the guitar as the song had been playing. “And also, not to be rude, because I think its, uh, cool? But what even is this.”

Caleb chuckled a little, genuine smile glancing over his face as Jester motioned vaguely at the CD player. “It’s an acquired taste, that is for sure. The Cure. They’re old.”

“Okay.” 

The song had switched over and Jester wasn’t sure how to react to it or to Caleb, because at least this one was mostly a real song, but she had put the CD in expecting. Well. Not this. She was still trying to figure out exactly what it was she was listening to. 

Apparently, her confusion was apparent on her face, because Caleb suddenly spoke up. “Skip to track, ah, eight. I think you might like it.”

She leaned forward, peering at the dashboard through stripes of streetlamp light, and found the skip button. Smashing it several times, she sat back and let the CD catch up.

It started with upbeat drums and guitar, sounding closer to like. Actual music. There was real melody, that started a normal amount of time into the song, and it had more than three notes, and the guy hadn’t started doing that weird sad yelling thing this time, and 

“OH MY GOSH WAIT A MINUTE CALEB I KNOW THIS ONE I ACTUALLY KNOW IT OH MY GOSH!”

She had to actively stop herself from smacking his arm, because it was already not safe to hit the person driving a car, and she had a feeling Caleb would startle much easier than Nott or Fjord would.

“Oh, really?” he asked, head twisting slightly in Jester’s direction, but still staying more or less trained on the road.

“Yeayeayeayea!” Jester was practically bouncing in her seat as she spoke. “It was in this show that me and my Mama like to watch a lot, it’s also kind of old, it’s called Fang Love, it’s about this kid who’s secretly a vampire and he falls in love and it’s a little bad but actually really good,  _ have _ you ever seen it?”

“No, I cannot say I have.”

Jester’s hands flew about emphatically for a second before settling, frozen in an excited gesture in Caleb’s direction. “Oh my gosh, well, let me tell you about it okay? Cause it’s really good.”

“Sure,” Caleb said, finding Jester’s energy infectious, perfectly happy to hear her talk.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Okay, so, and then,” Jester was saying over the background noise of Caleb’s CD still playing, “Oscar shows up at Guin’s house, and he has the matching flower thingys for the both of them to wear to the dance right? And so they go in her bathroom and she’s like trying to pin it on him but its a real rose because that’s super duper romantic, but she pricks her finger on a thorn and then Oscar smells the blood and his fangs come out and he’s like AAAAAAAAAAA and she’s like AAAAAAAAAAAA and he’s like - next block - and”

  
  
“Wait, he says what?”

“What?” A mutually confused hush fell over the car before, “OH, no, no, my apartment is on the next block. Big old gate looking thingy. But anyways Oscar’s like ‘oh my gosh Guin you know my secret you must hate me now’ and she’s like ‘no, I could never do that’, but Oscar is like ‘it’s too dangerous, we can’t be together when I’m like this, what if I kill you’ and she’s like -”

“Is this it?”

  
  
“Next one - she’s like ‘Oscar I don’t care I love you so much and -”

Caleb pulled his car to the side of the road, lucky to find a space just in front of the walkway to the “Big Old Gate-Looking Thingy” that enclosed Jester’s apartment complex.

“- and then Oscar tries to run away into the woods because he’s in The Hunt right now but Guin follows him into the woods and -”

  
  
Caleb shifted the car into park and unlocked Jester’s side door so she could get out.

“- and then its dark so she’s lost and her dress is all torn and then she hears someone behind her and she thinks its Oscar but its NOT its the vampire that TURNED him into a vampire and he attacks her and is about to suck her blood when Oscar shows up -”

  
  
Given that Jester’s sentence had no sign of ending, Caleb opted to turn the engine off. 

“- and then he punches the guy and they fight and its really hot and then he knocks the other guy out and he goes over to Guin and he’s like ‘are you ok?’ and she’s like ‘now that you’re here’ and then they kiss and its super beautiful and they have their own dance by themselves in the woods and Guin sings a little bit and its really pretty and -”

  
  
Caleb reached into the back seat to grab Jester’s dance bag and pass it to her. She grabbed it and began the process of removing herself from the car. However, she was slowed down significantly because most of her energy was still invested in talking.

“- and then the next day they go to school and like everyone noticed that they weren’t at the dance because Oscar had made such a big deal out of asking her and so then this other mean girl Lydia started this rumor that they couldn’t come because Guin was pregnant -”

“Jester,” Caleb interrupted. “I don’t mean to cut off your story, but it’s quite late. You ought to get inside.”

“Oh, god. Shit. Sorry, Caleb,” she said, finally breaking her train of thought. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, really. Not a problem.”

“Okay, but I’m still sorry that I talked so long. But I’ll finish telling you this tomorrow cause I haven’t even  _ gotten _ to the good parts yet.”

Caleb half-grinned at up Jester, who was currently stopped midway through exiting the car ass-first so that she wouldn’t break conversation with him. “I look forward to it.”

“I know you do.” Jester gave him a cheeky grin as she stepped fully out, beginning to close the door behind her. Just as it was nearly shut, she threw it open again. “You know, Caleb,” she said, leaning back through the door so her head was in the car, “I really  _ could’ve _ taken the train by myself.” 

Caleb’s face scrunched together, unsure of what kind of a response she wanted. 

“But seriously, though,” she continued, before he could say anything, her tone much less teasing than just a second ago, “Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it. G’night, Caleb.”

“G-good night, Jester.”

She gave him a quick final wink as she pulled herself back, then shoved the door shut and skittered towards the apartment building she had pointed out to Caleb. He watched her go, waiting as she fumbled with her keys to make sure she got fully through the door before turning back to the road and driving away. 

* * *

  
  


“UuuuUUuuuUUUuUUUuuuuuUGH,” Jester groaned, dragging her shoes behind her as she shlepped into the studio for their horrible awful disgusting regular morning class. Still whining, she dropped her shoes and water bottle near her normal spot at the barre, leaning her forehead dramatically on it as she kicked her things into place.

“Mornin’ Jes,” Beau said, glancing up at her from the floor.

“G’morning,” Jester mumbled back, pushing herself off the barre and wobbling the space for a minute before continuing her trek to the far side of the room.

“Hey, wait, Jes. Jes! Where are you  _ going _ ?”

Jester did not turn, but held up a hand with the pointer finger extended behind her for Beau to see. “Be back in a sec.”

Caleb was sitting in his usual corner, items tucked neatly against the wall and shoes already on as he sat in a casual butterfly stretch. His feet were pressed together with knees out to the sides, pushed down by his elbows and the weight of his head, which he was resting absentmindedly between two loose fists as he stared at the floor. 

“SO!” Jester said, flopping down in his peripheral vision, startling him out of the stretch. “Where did I leave off?”

“Good morning Jester. I don’t know what you’re asking me,” he said, straightening his posture to be looking at her without coming out of the stretch.

“With Fang Love, I mean, the greatest show ever written. Where did I leave off telling you about it, because I said last night that I’d finish telling you about it, and I’m a woman of my word, Caleb.”

“I … don’t doubt it.”

Jester humphed in agreement as she shifted to mirror Caleb’s stretching position. 

“You left off with something about Lydia and being pregnant?”

“Mhm, right, of course,” Jester began, incredibly serious, “So Lydia tells the entire school that Guin is pregnant and that’s why she couldn’t come to the dance is because she had morning sickness, and…”

Jester kept talking, voice blending slowly into the din of the room as the entire company began to filter their way in to stretch and chat and prepare for class. Caleb listened attentively, “Ja, ok”-ing every few sentences, and pausing every once in a while to make sure he had the names right. He shifted his stretch every minute or so, Jester following suit to match after a few seconds delay. That is, until the door to the studio cracked open and she found herself scrabbling to her feet almost before she saw 

“FJOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORD!” Jester squealed, speeding across the room and launching herself at him for a hug.

“Jessie!” Fjord caught her easily, spinning her about once before setting her down.

“Fjord, oh my gosh, I missed you so much, I’m so glad you’re back, it’s been so lonely at the barre without you, you should have seen Beau, all alone on her side, it was so sad -”

“I’m sure it was,” he chuckled. “But I’m back now - no jumps still, though. How’s it been re-setting everything?”

“Oh, uh. You know. Fine,” Jester said, pulling out of the hug.

“I still am sorry about that,” Fjord added, noticing the sudden decrease in Jester’s chattiness.

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re the injured one, you don’t have to apologize. It’s whatever.”

“Widogast been treating you ok?”

“Yayayayaya,” she answered, voice brightening and lips catching in a smile, “He’s like, a really good partner, actually, and like - don’t worry, he’s not better than you. At least for most things, anyway, but, you know, yeah. He’s good to work with and he’s really nice and kinda funny sometimes, like, it’s good! OH! And I was in the middle of telling him something, oh my god, hold on, I will be RIGHT back, Fjord, I promise.”

She gave him another quick, smothering hug before sliding her way back into Caleb’s corner.

“Don’t you want to talk to him?” Caleb asked as Jester found her way back into his personal space.

“I can talk to him during class, because he does that, unlike  _ some _ people who don’t talk to anyone except Nott, and that’s just to humor her into leaving you alone.”

Caleb started to react with an indignant face, but found Jester to have read him a little too well, and let it fall.

“And besides, I couldn’t just leave you on the cliffhanger about Lydia being a secret vampire hunter, now could I?”

* * *

  
  
  


“Fjoooooord!” Beau called, grin breaking across her face as she held up a hand.

Fjord clasped it and tugged, pulling Beau up off the floor and dragging her into a hug. She gladly accepted, slapping his back affectionately.

“Glad to see you again, Beau,” he said, pulling back and letting their hands drop. 

“You too, man,” she replied, socking him lightly in the bicep.

“Careful with those fists, Beau. You might dislocate Mr. Twig-bone’s shoulder next.”

Fjord sighed, turning around to face the new voice. “Good to see you too, Nott.”

Nott stared down her nose at Fjord in greeting. 

He attempted to stare down his nose back. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating   


“Where’s Jessie?” Nott asked, swinging her body beneath the barre to sit next to Beau. “I would’ve thought she’d be clinging onto Fjord still.”

“Well, she did,” Fjord started, “but then she ran over …”

“...There.” Beau pointed towards Caleb’s corner, the two of them mirroring each other as Jester talked animatedly. 

“What’re they even talking about?” Nott said, squinting across the room, as if that would help her eavesdrop better.

“That shitty ass soap opera Jester always watches with her mom,” Beau answered. “They facetime while it’s live every Tuesday.  _ Tuesday _ , Nott. Nothing good ever airs on Tuesday. Thursdays, maybe. But not Tuesdays.”

“The vampire one?” Fjord added. “Yeah, I’ve heard my share about it. It’s fucking impossible to make sense of.”

Nott hummed in agreement. 

“You guys think it’s a little weird though, right?” Beau whispered. “Like, look how excited she is. It’s barely 9:20! Normally she’s still face down on the floor, grumbling.”

“Fuckin’ weird,” Nott agreed. 

“Good that they’re getting along well, at least,” Fjord said, mostly optimistically. 

“I guess,” Beau huffed. “Still weird though. Took Caleb  _ forever _ to warm up to me when we first started dancing together.”

“Yeah, but you’re you.”

“Fuck off, Nott.”

“Point demonstrated.”

Nott slid just out of the way of a half-hearted punch from Beau. She growled in retaliation, focusing just enough attention on looking crazed that she missed the sound of someone walking up behind her.

“What are you all gossiping about?” Jester asked, resting her chin sweetly on Nott’s head.

“NOTHING, NOT YOU, UH, FJORD’S DICK!” Nott scrambled.

Beau nodded sagely, Fjord buried his face in his hands, and Jester tossed her head back, cackling. 

“I have not missed this,” Fjord mumbled into his palms.

  
  
“What about  _ her _ ?” Jester asked, gesturing up at Dairon who had stepped into the room and begun laying her things by the piano.

“I can say yes now,” Fjord said, rising bregrudgingly f to his feet, “but after a week and a half of no class, there is no possible way I will be saying yes tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna die,” Beau agreed.

“I’ll pray for your muscles,” Nott said as she stood to move back to her regular barre spot. 

Jester watched her go, skittering towards the far wall, and setting up just next to Caleb. He happened to be looking over in Jester’s direction, and caught her eye. She flashed him a quick smile and an awkward wave, which he returned even quicker and more awkward. Jester broke eye contact first, turning and bending over to tidy the pile of things still haphazardly dropped near her part of the barre. 

The flush in her face was just a result of how fast she had tilted her torso over. Probably.

Whatever, it wasn’t like she had time to think about it, anyways. Dairon was already moving towards a barre to start giving the first combination. Jester took a quick sip from her water to reset her senses, and began to focus solely on remembering which port de bras went with which position in these pliés. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! comments are always appreciated, and you're also welcome to check out my tumblr [cadykeus-clay](https://cadykeus-clay) as well!!!
> 
> Glossary:  
> Barre: Wood or Metal bars set up along studio walls or freestanding in the center of the room for dancers to use for balance during the first part of class.
> 
> port de bras: Usually means movement of the arms. Sometimes also means stretches. Don’t know why.
> 
> plies: a early warm up exercise that involves bending the knees in various positions of the feet.


End file.
